"Prof. Charley" 

<A Sketch of 

Charles 'Thompson 

by c4. E. L. 



LD 

.9 





May 9, 1874. 



''Prof. Charley'' 

A Sketch of CharleyThompson by 

Daughter of the 

Rev. William A. Stearns, D.D., Late 

President of Amherst College 

With an Introduction by 

Joseph Osgood Thompson, Ph.D., Associate 

Professor of Physics in Amherst College 



^ 



Boston 
D. C. HEATH ^ CO. 

jp02 



V 



THE LIBRARY OF 

CONGRESS, 
Two Cofi£.9 Recti VED 

m. 25 1902 

(NCoPVfllOHT ENTRY 

W.ASSCt/'XXa No. 
COPY B. 



Copyright, igo2, 
By D. C.''Heath. 



INTRODUCTION 

When, in the course of the civil war, 
General Butler was making himself odious 
to the white and correspondingly beloved 
^i> by the black population of New Orleans, 

a colored minister proposed the following 
toast : *' Here's to General Butler, God bless 
him ! Though he has a white skin he has 
a black heart." A similar sentiment, with 
an interchange of two words, I harbor con- 
cerning the subject of the following sketch, 
" Professor" Charley Thompson. 

For me to introduce this man to Am- 
herst alumni would be like Ascanius intro- 
ducing Hector to a Trojan audience. There 
is not an Amherst man, from the time of 
William Augustus down to the reign of 
Georgius Primus, who does not think with 
pleasure of the smiling face and shuffling 
gait that characterized Charley while act- 
ing the part of Aquarius in the Amherst 
zodiac constellations. But recent events 
[ 3 1 



Introduction 



in Charley's life may have escaped the 
notice of some of the alumni. His wife, 
Eliza, died a year ago. His mortgage- 
burdened farm had to be sold. At his 
present age of eighty-two, he is unable to 
earn his daily bread. In the last years of 
the illness of his insane wife, his tender 
devotion to the girl he had promised "to 
love and cherish" was beautiful and im- 
pressive. " I promised Dr. Stearns I would 
allers take good care of Eliza, and I allers 
will" was his invariable reply when urged to 
have his wife taken to an asylum. When, 
finally, she died, he thought his last and best 
friend had been taken from him. " Dr. 
Stearns is dead. Dr. Tyler is dead, and now 
Eliza is dead, and nobody cares for me 
now." 

To demonstrate the incorrectness of the 
concluding statement, and to help provide 
for his future comfort, the following sketch 
has been written. 

Joseph O. Thompson. 



[ 4 ] 




Professor Charley." 



Oct. 31st, if 



"PROF. CHARLEY" 

HAUNTING the College grounds, 
and wandering from one building to 
another, may often be seen the forlorn 
figure of an old colored man. He is very 
deaf, his teeth are worn out, and his eye- 
sight is failing. But if addressed, he draws 
himself up with a certain proud dignity 
and an air of ownership that marks him 
as one having some connection with the 
College, deeper than at first sight appears. 

Indeed, many of the older graduates can 
recall him as he looked some twenty or 
thirty years ago, coming from the old Col- 
lege well, with his two pails of water, a 
welcome visitant to the then comfortless 
rooms of North and South College. 

So many years has he toiled up and 
down the College hill, shovelled the walks, 
"tended the b'iler," swept the halls and 
made the fires, that he has come to feel 
himself a part of the machinery of the 
[ 5 ] 



''Prof. Charley'' 



College, and with some claim, in his de- 
clining years, on his Alma Mater. 

He cannot realize that younger hands 
can do the work better, that dim eyes can- 
not see so well, that deaf ears cannot hear 
instructions, that he is too old to carry 
heavy burdens. His hands are as willing, 
and his spirit as loyal as in the old days. 
Indeed, Amherst College stands to him 
now for home, for wife, and friend. 

And so it is to Charley's "boys" that 
the following sketch is written, by one who 
has always known and loved him, with the 
hope that for his faithful work in the past 
he may, with their help, be kept in his old 
age from the Almshouse. 

Charles Thompson was born in Portland, 
Maine. It was in December, 1838, when 
he was about fifteen years old, that he 
came to live with my father. It was at 
the height of the abolition excitement. 
My father had given some offense by refus- 
ing to countenance the extreme measures 
that were generally desired. Nevertheless, 
[ 6 ] 



Prof. Charley'''' 



when the leading abolitionists were unwill- 
ing to help the boy, he took him in and 
made him one of his family. To quote his 
own words : 

"I said: 'send the colored boy to me, 
and we will see what next.' In about half 
an hour Charley came in. His clothing 
was scant and in a very dilapidated condi- 
tion. We looked him over, talked with, 
liked him, and concluded to keep him. 
Mrs. Stearns went immediately to work to 
fit him up with comfortable and decent 
clothing. Before night he had come into 
quite a presentable condition." 

Charley came into our family long be- 
fore I was born. He was my nurse and 
playfellow from my earliest days. It was 
probably his tender, watchful care that 
saved my life, when, after a fearful attack 
of croup, the physician had said, " she can- 
not live till morning." Holding me, help- 
less and almost lifeless, in his strong black 
arms, he declared that " the baby was 
starving" and insisted upon feeding me 
[ 7 ] 



''Prof. Charley'' 



with rennet-whey, while tears rolled down 
his cheeks when I took it greedily, and 
from that moment began to revive. 

One of my earliest recollections is of 
sitting on his knee in the kitchen, fondling 
his black, horny hand, or patting his face ; 
and I can recall him in his long checked 
blue apron, blacking the boots, or rubbing 
down the horse. But it was Charley's 
musical ability that made us love him as 
a companion in the evening, for Charley 
owned a fiddle, and when he played "Money- 
Musk" or some lively jig, the children 
could not help dancing. "Just keep your 
fingers goin' and bumby you'll get it," was 
his advice to my brother, who tried to play. 

When asked how he learned to play, he 
answered, " My father was a great fiddler." 

There were many efforts made to teach 
him to read, but it will be remembered that 
Charley was already fifteen years old, and 
he was not an apt scholar. My sister would 
sit by him with a spelling-book, but he never 
went far beyond the Alphabet. "Now," 
[ 8 ] 



" Prof. Charley " 



she would say, " how do you spell Charles ? " 
" Charles," running the letters together in 
an incomprehensible way. " Yes, that is 
right, now, what does C-h-a-r-1-e-s spell ? " 
" Boston ? " Is it strange that the reading 
lessons were abandoned for the more in- 
teresting and better appreciated violin ? 

Everywhere the children went, there 
went Charley. He was devoted to them ; 
they loved him and shared with him all 
their pleasures. He was always truthful 
and trustworthy, and to the best recollec- 
tion of the family, no oath or unclean word 
ever passed his lips. So the eager request, 
" may we play with Charley .-' " was always 
cheerfully granted. 

{Note. For the following anecdote , and 
many others given in this sketchy I am in- 
debted to m.y sister, Eliza C. Stearns^ 

Once a famous menagerie came to Boston. 

My father promised to take my older sister, 

my two brothers, and Charley to see the 

show. When my father presented his little 

[ 9 ] 



''Prof. Charley'' 



company for the tickets, the gate-keeper re- 
fused to let in Charley, "We never let 
niggers in," said he. There was a howl 
from the three small children, while each 
child declared, "then I won't go." "You 
hear what these children say," said my 
father, turning to go away. Whereupon 
the gate-keeper, seeing it was really a los- 
ing game on his part, decided to let the 
whole party pass in. 

This incident is mentioned as showing 
the feeling towards the negro at that time, 
even in the good city of Boston. 

To quote once more from my father's 
manuscript. 

"He remained in my employ as chore- 
boy until he became of age. As he was 
now a legal voter, and an exciting presiden- 
tial election was at hand, I said : * Charley, 
you are now a free voter, and can vote for 
whom you please. I shall vote so-and-so, 
and for such-and-such reasons.' At the 
town-meeting he was surrounded by those 
who insisted that he should vote for his own 

[ 10 ] 



''Prof. Charley'' 



color, as they called it, which meant, I be- 
lieve, that he should vote for Martin Van 
Buren. He was urged so hard that a con- 
siderable excitement followed. Some of 
them said, 'Mr. Stearns hates the colored 
people, and you are nothing but his slave.* 
* I bore it,' said Charley, ' until they be- 
gan to talk agin Mr. Stearns, and then I 
was so 'cited, that I was a good mind to 
knock 'em down. I told 'em, I know who 
my friends are. I know who took me in, 
and took care of me when I hadn't any 
home, and I know your talk, and who 
turned me away from their doors, and I 
shall vote as I please.'" 

As Charley grew to manhood, he became 
useful not only to my father, but to the 
town of Cambridge. In time he became a 
Cambridge fireman, and while he helped put 
out the fires, he was sometimes out at night 
when there was no fire. 

To my brothers, just growing up, these 
midnight adventures were told, and made 
most fascinating. To me, Charley's fire- 
[II ] 



''Prof. Charley'' 



man's hat, his watchman's rattle, and his 
big bass drum were more innocent, but 
quite as entertaining. 

Some time after this it was decided to 
send Charley to sea. My father must have 
felt that his companions were not altogether 
desirable ones, and that my brothers would 
now be better with friends of their own 
age and station. My father says : 

" I obtained a place for him under care 
of a friend of ours, Captain Charles Evans, 
captain of a whaling vessel from New Bed- 
ford. With him, Charley went round the 
world on a three years' voyage. He was 
very faithful, and the captain soon made 
him steward and special attendant on him- 
self." 

My first sorrow must have been when 
he went away, for I was found, a child two 
years old, in his bare, empty room, " trying 
to smell Tartar" (Charley). 

" Be a good boy, Willie," he said to my 
oldest brother at parting, " be a good boy, 
or I sha'n't never want to come back." 

[ 12 ] 



''Prof. Charley'' 



I well remember the joy of his home- 
coming, and shall never forget how he led 
me "down the street" to " Hyde's," where 
he gave me a bright fourpence to spend for 
some beautiful pink calico for my doll. 

Wonderful stories of the sea he told us, 
to which we children listened with breath- 
less attention, 

" One day he went up where the sun did 
not set. They kept waiting for the sun to 
go down, and it wouldn't go down. The 
longest day he ever knew, and he thought 
he should starve before supper-time." 

" It was terrible," he said, " going out 
after the whales. The whale would get 
mad and come towards the vessel with his 
mouth open — his mouth and throat so 
big you could drive one of the Cambridge 
omnibuses into it, turn round and come out 
again." 

Besides the stories, there were the treas- 
ures in his old sea chest, the delight of our 
hearts. Among them I remember an old 
horn crown, once the pride and adornment 
[ 13 ] 



''Prof. Charley'' 



of the head of a " Kanaka " ; a polished 
ivory tooth ; some wooden beads ; and other 
trophies from foreign lands. 

Charley went with Captain Evans on 
three voyages. The second and third voy- 
ages were in a merchant vessel. But after 
this third voyage, Charley went no more to 
sea. 

On this voyage out, the crew mutinied ; 
and some were placed in irons before com- 
ing to terms. ** Charley was the only one 
faithful through it all," the captain wrote 
home. 

On the voyage from Hong Kong to 
Honolulu the captain died. Charley stood 
by him day and night, and with his hand 
clasped in the black one, that Christian 
seaman breathed his last. That same black 
hand wrapped him in his shroud, and he was 
buried in the sea. With loving thought- 
fulness Charley cut a lock from his hair, 
took care of his watch and other belongings, 
bringing all home to the captain's wife. 

When he reached England he was so 
[ 14 ] 



''Prof. Charley'' 



overcome with grief that he determined 
not to go home. He could not bear to 
meet the poor afflicted wife, and but for 
those to whom the ship was consigned, he 
would never have come back. 

" Steward," Mrs. Evans always called 
him, and she would say the word with in- 
describable affection. 

After this last voyage Charley lived as 
coachman with an old friend of my father's 
in Cambridge, remaining there for several 
years, untU 1856 or 1857, when he came 
to Amherst to live once more with his 
beloved "Mr. Stearns." And from that 
time until my father died, he served him 
and the College, as only those serve who 
work for love. 

It was about the year 1859 when a pretty 
mulatto girl came to live with Mrs. Adams, 
the widow of the late Professor Adams. 
Seeing her pass the house one day, my 
brother Frazar said to Charley, "There 
goes a pretty girl, catch her Thompson." 

From that time until he stood by her 
[ 15 ] 



''Prof. Charley'' 



cold body, Charley's love for the "pretty 
girl " never faltered. My brother was his 
friend and confidant in this affair, wrote 
his love-letters for him, gave him fresh 
heart when he hesitated, lest he should not 
be able to win her. 

The young woman was an earnest Metho- 
dist, and Charley would wait on her "to 
meetin'." After a long winter of wooing, 
he announced joyously one morning, " Oh, 
I feel so 'ligious to-day." 

They were married at Mrs. Adams' 
house by my father, one of his little 
daughters acting as bridesmaid, and a son 
of Mrs. Adams as best man, while the 
bride made the wedding-cake and Mrs. 
Adams provided the wedding-feast. It 
was then and there that Charley gave the 
promise so faithfully kept, " In sickness 
and in health, in prosperity and trouble . . . 
until death us do part." 

Soon after his marriage, the College built 
for him the little house that stands at the 
foot of the president's orchard. And here, 
[ i6 ] 



''Prof. Charley'' 



as sub-janitor of the College, Charley lived 
close beside his best friend and benefactor. 

The students were always his "boys." 
Many times on his late round of duty at 
night would he find and help to his room 
and bed, some poor "boy" who was best 
off there; but nothing of this ever came 
before the faculty. To many another poor 
fellow, struggling to help himself through 
College, "boarding himself," would come 
unexpected and much needed relief. 
Charley, with wonderful tact, always knew 
when it was best to mention a name and 
when to say nothing. He was as faithful 
to the students as to my father. 

In the old days, when wood stoves, with 
their long pipes reaching around under the 
galleries, were all that there was to heat 
the barn-like chapel, Charley was up long 
before daylight to make his fires, and have 
the building comfortable for "Mr. Stearns " 
for the early morning prayers. Many a 
time at two o'clock, and again at four 
o'clock in the cold winter mornings, the 
[ 17 ] 



''Prof. Charley'' 



gleam of his lantern told us that the faith- 
ful fellow was looking after his stoves. 

Later, on his way home, Charley nearly 
always stopped for a few moments in our 
kitchen. Rubbing his hands he would tell, 
with a chuckle peculiar to himself, how he 
and Mr. Hunt, or Mr, Gates, had outwitted 
the mischief concocted by the students the 
night before. 

Once they had carried off the tongue of 
the old College bell and, filling the upturned 
bell with water, left it to freeze. This was 
discovered in season to be made right before 
it was time to ring for morning prayers, — 
for there happened to be two extra bell 
tongues. A second time, and a third, the 
same thing occurred, but the old College 
bell rang out as clear as ever, and there 
was no chance for " cutting prayers." 
" Boys," said Charley, " I '11 tell you some- 
thing, I've got a whole barrel full of bell- 
tongues, and you better not try that again, 
for as fast as you take one out, I can put 
one in." In point of fact, an old sledge- 
[ i8 ] 



'"''Prof. Charley'^ 



hammer was made to do duty the third time 
in place of the missing part, but it answered 
all the purpose for the occasion. 

One morning the old time-honored Bible 
was missing from its place on the pulpit 
desk. The loss was discovered before 
morning prayers, by that watchful eye that 
seemed to see everything concerning the 
College. Very soon a mysterious message 
was left at the president's door — "Mr. 
Stearns might as well put a Bible in his 
pocket when he goes over to prayers." The 
hint was taken and, to the wonder of some, 
the exercises went on as usual. 

Once a young instructor was locked into 
his room. Watching from his window he 
saw the man with the keys, and was silently 
let out from his prison, appeared as usual 
to conduct his recitation, and no one ever 
knew, "how he got out," 

When the grass on the College campus 
was cut, the President's order was to have 
it all removed before night. Once, how- 
ever, this was neglected, and the sight of 
[ 19 ] 



''Prof. Charley'' 



the new-mown hay was too attractive to be 
resisted. In the early morning, as he went 
his rounds, Charley discovered the plat- 
form in the College chapel piled high with 
the hay. But when the students met for 
morning prayers, everything was as usual, 
much to the chagrin of some who had ex- 
pended so much zeal in this direction the 
previous night. 

In the autumn, when the leaves were 
plentiful on the ground, my father would 
say to the janitor, " See that those leaves 
are carried off before night ; they are too 
great a temptation if left there." But there 
came a time when the order was forgotten, 
and several bonfires were started in the 
grass. Charley, seeing the fun going on, 
filled his pails with water and, while fresh 
leaves were being collected, quietly emptied 
his pails on the burning piles. Repeating 
this at every new supply, he said at last, 
"'Taint no use, boys, I shall pour on the 
water as often as you pile on the leaves." 

Then there was "Sabrina," the nymph 
[ 20 ] 




'■•■1^^ \ 





''Prof. Charley'' 



that presided over the College flower- 
garden, whose fame still lives, and who, it is 
darkly hinted, can yet be seen by those who 
know her hiding-place. Smiling always, she 
sat serene and unclothed. Sometimes she 
held in her hand a bunch of flowers. On 
one occasion her friends took pity upon 
her destitute condition and furnished her 
with a fresh wardrobe from the clothes- 
line in my father's back yard. But Charley 
was early in the kitchen, to restore the 
garments and chuckle over the fun he had 
spoiled . 

It often seemed strange that my father 
should appear at just the right moment 
when a "cane-rush" or some unexpected 
uproar was taking place. Yet I doubt if 
any student can recall a time when Charley 
ever betrayed him. He held all confidences 
as sacred. Names he never gave, nor was 
he asked to give them. 

The following anecdote has been recently 
sent to me, and although the incident hap- 
pened after my father's family left Amherst, 

[ 21 ] 



''Prof. Charley'' 



I am assured that it comes from a trust- 
worthy source. 

"Once a certain president of Amherst 
did disk Charley to give him the names of cer- 
tain students whom Charley had seen com- 
mitting some act of depredation. Charley 
declined to furnish the desired information. 
The president then commanded Charley to 
tell the names. Still no information was 
forthcoming. The president was vexed, 
and threatened to remove such an undiiti- 
ful, obstinate janitor; but, on sober second 
thought, concluded to do nothing further, 
Greek had met Greek, and Charley emerged 
triumphant from the conflict. A story of 
such grit seems worth mentioning." So it 
was that, with shrewdness, tact and good- 
nature, he was ever loyal to both students 
and faculty. 

After Charley was married, he was 
anxious to have a birthday. Sometimes it 
had been in March, sometimes in mid- 
winter. But one day he said, very wisely, 
that his sister had told him he was born in 

[ 22 ] 



''Prof. Charley'' 



January, and tlcciding upon a clay, he has 
since, so far as I know, clung to that date 
and belief. 

That year some of the students in some 
way heard tliat Charley would be so many 
years old on that day, and they platmed a 
surprise for the evenin<;. Afloi- su|)por a 
large number of the " boys " went to his 
house, carrying with them a l;u};e, com- 
fortable chair, which they presented with 
appropriate speeches. Some one had given 
I'vliza, his wife, a liint of the surprise-party, 
and she had prepared cake and lemonade 
which she served in her dainty, pretty, lady- 
like way. When the " boys " left they gave 
cheer upon cheer for Prof. Charley, leaving 
him more than happy. No doubt you may 
still see the chair, for it was always carefully 
treasured, a memento of more prosperous 
days. 

When the war broke out, my brother 
l^'razar joined the Twenty-first Massachu- 
setts Volunteers. Charley wished to go as 
his servant, but b^iza. would not consent. 
[ 23 ] 



''Prof. Charley'' 



During the first excitement of the war a 
large flag was bought by the students, and 
the flag-staff was placed on the Chapel 
tower. My brother spliced the rope, saw 
that all was right for raising the flag, and 
when everything was ready, said, "Now, 
Charley, see that this flag always goes up 
when there is a victory, and at every cele- 
bration," True to his trust, Charley always 
raised the flag. "I promised Mr. Frazar, 
you know, I 'd h'ist that flag," he would say, 
and lovingly he watched it, and many times 
he brought it to us to repair a rent or a 
tattered edge. When President Lincoln 
was assassinated, the flag was half-masted. 
When the news came that Adjutant 
Steams was killed and that the body was 
on the way home, Charley was sent to attend 
to everything needful. It was he who 
brought home the now useless sword, and 
put it reverently into the hands of one of 
the sisters, saying, "put it away, don't let 
your father see it." It was Charley who 
said, "you mustn't see him." It was Charley 
[ 24 ] 



''Prof. Charley'' 



who sat up all night in the cold hall of the 
library, "so he shouldn't be left alone." 
And it was Charley who was the last one to 
leave the tomb, the temporary burial-place 
of the dear soldier boy. 

When Richmond was taken, some of the 
students were desirous of firing the cannon, 
given by General Burnside to the Twenty- 
first Massachusetts Regiment, in memory 
of Adjutant Stearns, and presented by the 
Regiment to Amherst College. 

When the request to fire the cannon was 
brought to my father by one of the most 
popular officers of the College, my father 
said, " What, fire that cannon, covered over 
and made sacred with the names of the 
dead ? You may fire it, but I shall go into 
the cellar." Seeing how strongly he felt, 
the students said no more. But Charley 
brought back word that some of the towns- 
people were determined to have the cannon 
out, and one man had threatened to fire it 
off on the president's doorstep. 

It was not long before Charley gave the 
[ 25 ] 



''Prof. Charley'' 



warning that the crowd was coming up the 
street. My father stood on the steps of 
the Library building, a part of the time 
alone and a part of the time with a member 
of the faculty by his side. When the crowd 
reached the door, he allowed them one by 
one to pass into the building, look at the 
cannon, and see for himself that it was 
spiked and could not therefore be used. 

Charley remained a faithful watchman 
while the excitement lasted, watching far 
into the night lest there should be more 
trouble. 

At my father's burial, Charley walked 
by the side of the casket, at the head of 
the long procession, the body being carried 
by relays of the students. Just as they 
left the church there came a sudden and 
drenching summer shower. Said Charley, 
" I held the umbrella over him so he 
shouldn't get wet." And he stood by the 
grave until the last sod was placed and the 
mound heaped with flowers. 

When, a week or two after, Commence- 
[ 26 ] 



''Prof. Charley'' 



ment day came, Charley appeared at the 
house in great excitement, and said, " They 
want me to take over your father's chair " 
(which was to be draped and then placed 
as usual on the platform at the College 
Hall), " I'm not going to do it ; Mr. Gates 
can see to it, and bring it back ; I sha'n't," 
" Very well, Charley," we said, " you need 
not take it." 

The chair that he had carried back and 
forth from the house to the Hall, on Com- 
mencement day, for so many years, was then 
for the first and last time borne by another. 

During the year after my father's death, 
Charley came but seldom to the house. 
But one day, soon after Walker Hall was 
burned, he came into the kitchen and said 
in a whisper to a member of the family, 
" See what I have here ! " He then took 
from his pocket a small parcel wrapped in 
several folds of an old newspaper. Care- 
fully unwrapping them, he at length dis- 
closed an ear broken from the marble bust 
of my father. In searching among the 
[ 27 ] 



''Prof. Charley'" 



ruins he had found and treasured this 
strange relic. 

It is here that Charley's immediate con- 
nection with my father and his familymust 
close. But his touching faithfulness to his 
wife Eliza, the " pretty girl " he fell in love 
with and married when he first went to 
Amherst, deserves more than a mere notice. 

After he was married, Eliza took the en- 
tire charge of Charley's affairs, and as he 
was very fond and proud of her, he was 
glad to have it so. Eliza was very bright 
and very thrifty. She could read and write, 
and was, moreover, a zealous Methodist, but 
Charley always said, he wasn't "good 
enough to jine the Church," He entirely 
approved of Eliza's religion, but not of her 
sect. He "didn't like that denomination " 
he said. Coming home late one night, 
some one who saw him said, "What are 
you doing, Charley } " " Looking for Eliza," 
was the answer, " She's gone to meetin', 
way down to her church ; them Methodists 
are a travellin' people." 

[ 28 ] 



''Prof, Charley'' 



So it was, when Charley went to church 
it was always to the College church. Many 
of the Alumni can recall him as he sat 
there, Sunday after Sunday, dressed in his 
black wedding suit, Eliza, trim and neat in 
her best gown, with Mary, their adopted 
daughter, seated between them, in their 
pew in the gallery of the old College Chapel, 
no one more reverent and devout than he 
and his family. 

Eliza toiled at the wash-tub. Day by 
day she washed, ironed and mended the 
students' clothes. She was an excellent 
cook, a quiet and skilled waitress. During 
Commencement week she always helped 
prepare the president's house for the 
guests, assisted with the cooking, and 
waited upon the table. One afternoon and 
evening she always left herself free to go 
to Mr. Dickinson for his yearly " levee." 

So Eliza worked and saved. Charley 

brought to her all of his earnings, and she 

hoarded them until, little by little, they 

bought a cow, a horse, and finally a piece 

[ 29 ] 



''Prof. Charley'' 



of land. Then Eliza, ambitious to have 
a place of her own, built a house and 
mortgaged their property, hoping to work 
hard still and secure a home for their old 
age. 

But to this home came sickness worse 
than death. For many months Charley 
bore the burden and care of his sick wife 
alone. He cooked his own meals, slept 
when he could, mended his clothes, work- 
ing day and night when he could be spared 
from his College duties, at the same time 
nursing and watching his poor insane 
Eliza. 

Kind friends, at last, seeing his helpless 
situation, tried to assist him, and urged him 
to send his wife to an asylum. But to 
every proposition to send her away he would 
turn a deaf ear, while to the members of 
the family he would say, " I promised your 
father to take care of her." 

She grew worse, and still Charley refused 
to let her be taken from him. Charley, 
who had no idea of money, used all that he 
[ 30 ] 



''Prof. Charley'' 



had. Debts accumulated. His little legacy, 
left him by an unmarried sister, had to go 
to pay these debts. 

Touched by his devotion, friends con- 
tributed to his support, and provided a 
nurse for the now almost helpless woman. 

When death at last mercifully released 
the poor sufferer, there was nothing left to 
pay off the mortgage. House and land had 
to be sacrificed, and the poor old man had 
to give up everything. " I aint got no 
home, no more," he says pathetically, " I 
live most anywheres now." 

During rare visits to Amherst, we always 
seek out and pay a visit to Charley. 

When, not having seen him for several 
years, I said, " do you remember me .? " 
" Yes," with a bright and affectionate look, 
" I can't quite rec'lect your name, but — 
you 're my little girl." 

I am happy to add that Charley has 
found in Mr. Joseph O. Thompson, now 
instructor at Amherst, a thoughtful and 
most considerate friend. 

[ 31 ] 



''Prof. Charley'' 



Mr. Thompson went to Charley when 
Eliza died. Together they selected a 
suitable lot at the cemetery for her burial. 
He saw that flowers were provided, that 
there should be singing, prayers, and every 
comforting arrangement made for the 
funeral services. Since then he has cared 
most tenderly for Charley ; soothed him in 
his grief, looked after his daily needs by 
begging money from old friends of the Col- 
lege, and when this was slow in coming, 
paying what was needed from his own 
pocket. But for Mr. Thompson, the poor 
old- man would be indeed homeless. 

At present Charley is boarding with the 
people who nursed and cared for Eliza in 
her last illness. They were very kind in 
caring for Charley, and he is as happy with 
them as it is possible for him to be away 
from his own home. Mr. Thompson has 
provided that Charley should keep his 
horse, for as he wrote in a recent letter, 
*' I reasoned that the poor old man should 
have some employment, and I believe that 
[ 32 ] 



''Prof. Charley'' 



the dearest treasure he has now is that old 
horse." 

My story is simply of a negro, now eighty 
years old. He has served Amherst Col- 
lege faithfully for forty years. The com- 
fort of students and faculty during this 
time depended more upon him, perhaps, 
than upon any other man. Another might 
have done what he has done, but few could 
do it better, or feel the pride that he has 
felt in his " boys." With the help of his 
wife he had saved his earnings, bought 
land, built a house and barn, owned a horse, 
a cow, a pig, hens and chickens, and to- 
gether they cultivated his little garden. 

When the College had finished with his 
services, he expected to live on the pro- 
ceeds of his little farm. With Eliza's 
thrift and economy he would have done so 
— but because of a promise, made many 
years before, he was very " stubborn " in 
refusing to have his wife taken to an in- 
sane asylum. Not knowing the value of 
money, his savings, which Eliza had always 
[ 33 ] 



''Prof. Charley'' 



taken care of, were soon exhausted, and, as 
she lived on and on, every year growing 
more helpless and more dependent, Charley, 
because he still loved her, was ever tender 
with her, and kept her near him, while 
slowly but surely his debts ate up his little 
property. 

Perhaps it would have been wiser if he 
had allowed her to be taken to an asylum 
and cared for there. But Charley was not 
wise. It is a " happy-go-lucky " race, and 
if it has bread for to-day, it seldom takes 
thought for the morrow. 

Is it too much to ask his "boys," to 
cheer up the old man? It is only for a 
few years longer, but let those few years 
be as happy as they can be made to one 
who " aint got no home, no more." 

A. E. L. 



[ 34 ] 



*"JN;85J802 



JUN. n 1902 

,m, ^j 1902 



■02 



